Mommie Dearest
by AlyssaLLBlack13
Summary: Roger's mother shows up just as high school begins, making life a living hell. Extremely graphic. Rated T for violence and some language.FYI: I promise you, things are going to be fully explained by the end.
1. Prologue

Author's note: There will be some shocking things in this story. If you are easily upset, DO NOT READ THIS! Rated for some slight language. This is in Roger's point of view.

When you think about it, all a man really has is his family. But what about some people? Those who never know their family. Those like me. My dad, for instance, was never around. My mother, sometimes. Charlene never wanted to be a mother. She had me at the age of sixteen, abandoning me. She'd show up once in a while, reeking, as always, of whiskey and marijuana. She'd whisk in, ruin my life, and whisk out, never helping me to pick up the pieces. But I loved her just the same. How could I not? She was my mother. Mark loves to ask me why I bother. Most of the time, I can't tell him the answer. I hated how she treated me. I hated her for what she did. But I loved her because she was my mother. There were times, though, when I wanted her to die in a ditch some where. High school, especially. That was one of the worst. She showed up a few days before freshman year, whisking me away from the comfortable life I'd been living with Mark's family, and made my life a living hell.


	2. Appearance

Author's note: The story will get painfully descriptive, so if you are easily upset, skip reading this. It's rated T for a reason, people! BTW-yes, it's now in third person.

"Roger! You have a visitor!" Mrs. Cohen knocked on Roger's door. "Roger, don't make me tell you again!" Roger mumbled something inaudibly, rolling over in bed. Mrs. Cohen opened the door. "Roger, it's almost lunchtime. Get up and get dressed. You have a visitor." Roger sat up slowly. "Morning to you too," he muttered. Mrs. Cohen left, and Roger stood. Pulling on his sweatshirt, he glanced in the mirror. "Good enough," he told himself. He headed downstairs, slightly shocked to see his mother, Charlene, on the couch. She threw her arms around him. "Roger, baby, I'm here to stay!" Roger just looked at her. "Yeah, right. That's what you said last time. And the time before that." Charlene smiled. "I mean it this time." Roger ignored her, glancing at Mark, who looked upset. Mark hated conflict, and Roger knew what he was thinking. He moved towards Mark's side. He glared at Charlene. "I want nothing to do with you. We start high school tomorrow. I just want to graduate without you screwing up my life!" He looked at Mark's mom. "Tell her I don't want to go with her!" Mrs. Cohen sighed. "Unfortunately, Roger, I can't legally stop her." Roger frowned. "But…what about…I mean…I can't leave. Mark needs me!" Charlene smiled. "Roger, honey, I want you to live with me now." "And what about what I want?" Roger was livid. "I want to stay here. I want to help my friend. Mrs. Cohen, you know what he'll do if I'm not around for him!" She nodded. "Maybe he needs to see a real doctor." Roger glanced at Mark, who was nervously scratching at his arm. Roger moved his arms apart gently. "Don't worry," he muttered. "I'm not going anywhere!"

Ten minutes later, Roger found himself in the passenger seat of his mother's car, being taken sullenly from Mark's house. Charlene was chattering away, but Roger slipped headphones onto his ears, turning the volume of his Hendrix tape on full. Charlene, however, yanked the headphones off. "First rule, young man. No rock and roll in my car. No loud music in my house. Bedtime is ten-thirty sharp on school nights. Weekends, in the house by midnight, in bed by one. Up at six-thirty on school days, weekends, eight am. No drugs, no alcohol, no attitude. Any questions?" "One," Roger said. "How exactly are you going to forbid me from drinking and drugs if that's what you're best at?" Charlene backhanded him. "I am trying, Roger. I've been in rehab. I've been getting clean. Please don't make this difficult for us." Roger just shrugged. "Can I have my headphones back now?" Charlene tossed them to him, smiling. "See, we're getting along already." Roger just rolled his eyes and escaped back into Hendrix.


	3. Freshman Year

Author's note: Again I reiterate, this story is going to be painfully descriptive. There were some tears shed in the writing of this piece, particularly chapter five. You'll see why when I get it posted. BTW-This is totally a short filler chapter, cause nothing much happened freshman year.

A few weeks into freshman year, things began to settle into a normal routine. The year had started rather rockily, with things extremely tense in the Davis household. Mark, on the other hand, had spent his first days as a freshman in the local hospital, having passed out from blood loss. Roger, upon hearing about this, grew sullen and withdrawn, talking only to Maureen, Collins, and occasionally Benny. He was silent in most of his classes, hiding in the back of the room. However, in music classes, with a guitar in his hands, he came alive. After saving the money for a couple months, he had two of his own guitars. Mark, Maureen, Benny, and Collins all chipped in a bought him an authentic Hendrix guitar, which he cherished deeply. He also bought himself an old acoustic guitar, which he played daily. Freshman year passed in a blur, with Roger at the top of his class. Maureen found a calling in the arts, while Benny was drawn to business management. Mark, with Roger's help and support, went to a therapist, and got his cutting under control. Summer came, and found Roger on a trip to Florida with Mark's family. With sophomore year came a fresh start, one that found everyone feeling happy and ready. The nightmare, however, had just begun.


	4. The Nightmare Begins

Authors note: Now we are totally getting to the part of the story that calls for a T rating.

Sophomore year started generally pleasant. Roger, much to many people's surprise, was actually able to pull off balancing A.P. classes, his newly formed band, and his part-time job. He even found time for a girlfriend, Jolene Andreas, a girl in his AP chemistry class. Paradise was a sweet place indeed. Paradise, however, came crashing down around Roger one night, and the nightmare began.

Roger was on his way home from a late practice, having been setting for a concert the band was giving on Saturday. He frowned when he reached his street, smelling the alcohol in the air. He sighed. 'Anyone else,' he told himself, 'anyone sane, would crash at a friend's house tonight. I guess I take after her more than I thought. I'm going in.' He pushed open the door, nearly gagging on the stench in the air. Charlene was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by empty whiskey bottles, half-smokes joints, and a hypodermic needle-with drugs still in it. Roger just glared at her. "Getting clean, huh? You certainly aren't trying very hard." Charlene struggled to her feet. "Young man," she slurred at him. Roger started for the stairs. "I'm crashing at Mark's tonight. You are disgusting, and I don't want to be anywhere near you." He started up the staircase, but his mother's backhand caught him across the mouth. She swung again, this time landing a hard, awkward punch on his chest. Roger staggered backwards, then swung defensively, hitting Charlene on the shoulder. The fight went on for nearly on hour before Charlene passed out, dead drunk. Roger glared at his mother for a moment, the limped upstairs and collapsed on his bed.

The next morning, Roger slipped out of the house before Charlene came to, making sure to grab the Fender. He limped his way to Mark's place, ringing the bell. Mark's mother answered. "Roger! You're early. Mark's not even awake yet!" Roger didn't smile. "Sorry. Can I come in? I think I must've busted my knee when I tripped at practice last night. It's really bugging me." Mrs. Cohen helped him limp to the couch. "Let me see it," she commanded. She examined it. "It's swollen, and very bruised, but it should heal in a few days. Let me go wake Mark, and I'll give you both a ride to school. You just stay right there on the couch." About that time, Mark poked his head downstairs, yawning, but dressed. "Hey, Rog. You're early. How come?" Roger smiled a bit, winching. "No reason. Hey, um, Mrs. Cohen? Could I steal something from the kitchen. I thought it was way later than it was, so I didn't eat before leaving." Mark's mother glanced at the clock. "Tell you boys what. You've got an hour to kill, so how about I make a nice, home cooked meal. Bacon and eggs sound good?" Roger nodded. "Thanks, Mrs. Cohen." Mrs. Cohen smiled at them. "Of course."


	5. Confession Time

Mark cornered Roger after homeroom. "Okay, so, what happened?" Roger frowned. "What?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "You're limping. You are covered in bruises, and the way you're carrying yourself, I'm guessing you have some broken ribs. What happened?" He softened his tone. "I'm asking as a friend. What happened?" Roger shrugged. "I fell. Down the stairs. It was no big deal." Mark's expression was skeptical. "You…fell? Really?" Roger looked away. "Look, I …it was Charlene, okay. She was really drunk, and judging by the state of the ashtrays surrounding her, incredibly high. She looks worse than me, believe me." Mark smiled softly. "Roger, you can't piss her off like that. Just let her do her thing. Stay out of the way." Roger nodded, absently. "Yeah, I guess. I…I have to go. I'll see you at lunch." Mark watched him limp away, sadly, longing to help him. 'He needs to call Child Services,' he thought. He wanted to stop him. Instead, he just stood there, watching Roger limp away, knowing the storm had only begun.

Roger crashed at Mark's place that weekend, after canceling his gig. Mrs. Cohen refused to let him be on his feet until Sunday evening, so she waited on him hand and foot. And while he'd never have admitted it out loud, Roger enjoyed every minute of it. Sunday evening came much to fast, and Roger headed home warily, wondering what was in store for him.


	6. A Nightmare of Epic Proportions

Author's note: This is the chapter I warned you about. Tears were shed in the process of writing it. Enjoy

Roger didn't show up for school on Monday. Mark was afraid to go over to his house and make sure things were alright, but Maureen and Collins convinced him to go. Collins even volunteered to go with him. As far as Mark was concerned, there was no logical way for him to refuse, so he agreed.

School let out at three o'clock. Mark and Collins, along with a concerned Benny, started the two-mile trek to Roger's house. Forty-five minutes into the hike, it began to rain. It was still pouring when they reached Roger's house. Mark took a deep breath, and then rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Mark exchanged a worried glance with Collins before trying the doorknob. The door was unlocked, and swung open easily. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, but they were still in no way prepared for what they saw.

Charlene was nowhere to be seen, but judging by what he saw, Mark didn't care if she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. He stared at the horrific scene in front of him. There was blood everywhere, and a trail of it led upstairs. Collins started up, but stopped, halfway, horrified. "Mark," he whispered, "call 911." Mark grabbed the phone, noticing that the cord has been ripped in half. "I can't." Benny threw him his clunky cell phone. "Use mine." He turned, starting up the stairs, already processing the scene in front of him. "My god," he whispered, just barely loud enough for Benny to hear. "What the hell happened here?" Collins shook his head. "I don't know…Mark, hurry!" There was no reply, just a sharp intake of breath. Benny turned. Mark was standing at the foot of the stairs, clearly shocked by the scene that was playing out in front of him. Roger lay sprawled on the ground halfway up the stairs, still bleeding. Benny grabbed Mark's arm gently, dialing the phone as he led Mark to sit on the couch. "I'm calling 911," he said softly, "and then I'll call Maureen." He focused on his phone. "Hello, 911? Yes, we have an emergency…I think he's still alive, barely…bleeding…we're at 4189 E. Lawndale Drive…his name is Roger Davis…Me? I'm Benny…Benjamin Coffin the Third…There's three of us here with him…I don't know what happened…please, hurry."

The next hour passed in a blur. Mark sat on the couch, numb, vaguely aware of Maureen at his side. The paramedics arrived, and Roger was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. They weren't even sure he'd survive the night. The police declared that someone had tried to kill him. Mark stood up at that. "Yeah, someone did try to kill him," he snapped. "His mother." The police didn't listen, instead questioning them about any enemies Roger had. Charlene turned up and pounced on Mark, demanding him to tell her who tried to kill her "baby." Maureen glared at her, pulling Mark to her side. Collins was questioned again and again about he they found Roger. The police declared Collins a hero, much to his dismay. Finally, they were told that had they arrived even a few minutes later, Roger would not have survived at all. "Thanks to you three," the paramedic told them, "he has a fighting chance. He'll spend some time in ICU, recovering, and then he'll be good as new." Mark shuddered, afraid to think of what Charlene would do when Roger got out.


	7. Hospital

Author's note: This is just kind of a filler chapter, there's not a whole lot of action. It's more closure for the previous chapter than anything else.

Roger spent three weeks in the hospital, the first of which he was unconscious during. When he woke up, he saw Mark sitting by his bedside. He struggled to sit up. "Mark! What the…where am I?" Mark smiled, slightly. "The hospital. Charlene kicked your ass pretty badly this time." Roger chuckled, wincing. "Yeah, I guess so." He sat up more, seeing Collins, who grinned. "Acoording to the doctors, Rog, you were nearly dead when we found you. Massive internal bleeding, some cracked ribs, several deep wounds that are believed to be from a pair of scissors and a lot of head trauma. You shouldn't be alive right now. You were like that almost six hours before we got to you. However, you'll recover. You've been here a week," he added, answering Roger's unspoken question. Roger nodded. "So, how long am I…wait, a week?" Collins nodded. "Yeah. Why?" Roger turned to Mark. "Let me see," he commanded gently. Mark nodded, producing his left arm. Roger examined it, then smiled. "I'm proud of you." Mark nodded. "I've been busy filming. Maureen got me a camera for my birthday." Roger's smile faded. "I missed your birthday?" Mark shrugged. "It's no big deal." Roger gave him a concerned look. "But it is. You're sixteen. I wanted to make a big deal out of it." He smiled. "I'll just have to do it when I get out of here." Mark grinned. "Get some rest. We'll be back later."


	8. New Beginnings

Author's note: Another boringly filler-esque chapter. Survey says…next one will be more entertaining.

Even with the three weeks he was hospitalized, Roger stayed at the top of his class. The rest of sophomore year, he and Charlene practically avoided each other, thus avoiding conflict. Mark asked Roger what he'd done to piss Charlene off. Roger had sheepishly replied that he couldn't remember. Determined not to make the same mistake, he barely spoke to Charlene. Charlene, apparently equally determined to stay out of jail, avoided Roger altogether. Roger crashed at either Mark's or Collins' places every weekend and most weeknights. The band began scoring a weekly gig at a local club, and they were almost ready to cut they're first single. Maureen, during one recording session, suggested a female lead singer, and Roger's newest girlfriend, Saylinda, fit the role nicely. Mark filmed all their gigs, saving all the footage for later on. The end of sophomore year in May signaled Roger's yearly month of vacation with the Cohens, this year in British Colombia. Upon his return, the band recorded and released their first single, "Anything," making them minor celebrities, and starting junior year off with a bang. Unfortunately, the beginning of the rest of their lives signaled the end of their childhoods. Things began to happen quickly, forcing all of them to grow up.


	9. Tragedy Strikes

Author's note: The story will be getting very dark again soon. This chapter is just a taste of what's to come.

"Roger, answer the phone!" Charlene had a hangover, and was irritable. Still determined to stay out of her way, Roger bit back the snide remark that sprang to his mind, instead grabbing the phone and flopping onto the couch. "Hello?" An official sounding voice answered him. "Is this Roger Davis?" Roger frowned. "Who's asking?" The person on the other end sighed. "This is Doctor Anderson at the county hospital. We have some bad news. A Saylinda Jackson was just brought in. You were listed on her contacts list. There was also a Mark Cohen brought in to us." Roger's heart lurched. "Why? What happened?" The doctor sighed again. "Miss Jackson and Mr. Cohen were in a semi-fatal car accident. They were hit head on by a large Range Rover. Mr. Cohen survived. He's got some scrapes and bruises, and some minor head trauma, but other than that, he's perfectly fine." Roger's breath caught. "And Saylinda?" The doctor paused. "I'm terribly sorry, Roger. Saylinda did not make it." Roger froze. "Wh-what? You mean she died?" "Yes." The doctor's voice was grave. "If you could come down, the police would like you to give us a positive id. Then you can take Mr. Cohen home, since we can't reach his parents." The line went dead. Roger stared at the phone for a long, agonized moment, then shouted upstairs, "I'm taking the car!" He ran out the door, phone in hand, and started the car, throwing it into reverse as he dialed Maureen.

"Are you kidding? Tell me you're kidding!" Maureen's hysterical screamed through the speaker. Roger held the phone away from his ear. "I wish, Maur. I'm on my way to get Mark now, and…" he fought to keep his voice from cracking. I'll swing by and pick you up. Be there in five." He switched the phone off, and hung a left onto Maureen's street. Maureen hopped in as he was coasting to a stop. They didn't say a word to each other; Maureen was in tears. Roger fought to keep his own from surfacing. He focused on driving, and, miraculously, made it to the hospital. The doctor waited. "You Roger?" Roger nodded. "Where's Mark?" Doctor Anderson nodded. "Of course. Follow me."

Mark sat curled up on the windowsill in his room. Maureen went straight to his side, pulling him into her arms. Roger stood numbly in the doorway, trying frantically to think of some way that Saylinda could have survived. He turned to the officer at his side. "How did she die?" The officer looker grim, and pulled Roger away from Mark's room. "Your friend there was driving," he muttered. "He wore his seatbelt, and the airbag deployed instantly. That was what saved him. Saylinda was not wearing her seatbelt, and when the car was hit, her head flew forward, striking the airbag at the exact angle needed the snap her neck. She died instantly, feeling no pain." Roger nodded. "I…I think I'm ready to see her now." The officer nodded. "Come with me."

Roger froze outside of the hospital morgue, steeling himself. The officer placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's hard seeing someone you love dead. You don't have to do this quite yet." Roger stared straight ahead. "I'm ready." The officer sighed. "Before you go in, you should know something. We ran blood tests on both of your friends. Mark was completely clean, but Saylinda…her blood alcohol level was .1, and she had trace amounts of marijuana and cocaine in her system. Had she survived, she'd be going to jail for illegal substance abuse. We think she may have seen a car that wasn't there, and in trying to grab the wheel from Mark, she steered straight into the other lane, in front of the Range Rover." Roger's face stayed emotionless, but his eyes registered shock. "Can I see her now?" The officer nodded. "Go ahead." Roger took a deep breath and opened the morgue door.


	10. What really happened?

Author's note: This will be mostly a flashback, to explain the events leading to Saylinda's death. It's Mark telling everyone what happened.

Roger stood by Mark's side, listening to him talk to the police. It's been several days since the accident, and they were still trying to piece together the full story. Mark had finally agreed to talk to the police about the accident, and Roger had agrees to be there for moral support. It was a small affair, with only the two main investigating officers, Mark, and Roger in the room while Mark was being questioned. The police started simply. "Where were you and Miss Jackson going on the day of the accident?" Mark took a deep breath, looked at Roger, who nodded encouragingly, and began.

"Well, seeing as how it was Saturday night, Saylinda had called and asked me if I wanted to go to a party. She said she'd called Roger and asked him, but he had to do something for his mother. I said yes. When she showed up at my house to pick me up, I realized she'd already been drinking, so I decided to drive. We got to the party, and there was…there were things going on that I really didn't want any part of."

**Flashback**

A low cloud of smoke filled the air. Mark looked around, trying to figure out where the smoke was coming from. One glance at Saylinda told him everything. He shivered. "Sayl, I think I'm gonna go. This is not my kind of party." Saylinda glanced at him. "Come on, Mark, don't be such a spoilsport. The party just hasn't begun yet. We're just getting warmed up." Mark gazed around; there were people drinking, people taking hits of joints or crack. He shook his head. "Not something I want to do. Ever. Enjoy that party." He turned to leave, but Saylinda caught his arm. "Then stay and be my designated driver?" Mark thought a moment, then nodded. "Okay. That I can do"

**End flashback**

Roger, by this point in the story, had knelt down at Mark's side, squeezing his hand. "So you were driving so that she could get home safely. What happened to cause the accident?" Mark looked at him. "Look, Rog, I know you think that this is somehow my fault, but it's not. If I could have saved her life…I'd have gladly died in her place." Roger frowned. "You think I blame you? I could never…there was absolutely nothing you could have done. I know if there was, you would have done it. I'm not blaming you for anything. I just want to know what happened." Mark nodded. "Well, the party ended about one, but Saylinda was passed out on the couch, so I decided not to move her till morning. We finally got out of there at about nine."

**Flashback**

Mark started the car, throwing it into reverse. "Okay, so I'm gonna take you home, and then you're going to sleep this off." Saylinda nodded sleepily. "Okay." They drove in silence for an hour or so, and then Saylinda jerked up suddenly, grabbing the wheel. "Mark, watch out!" Mark jerked at the wheel, trying to stay in the right lane. "Saylinda, what are you doing?" She yelled. "You're about to hit another car!" Mark looked out the windshield. "Saylinda, you're still suffering the effects of the drugs! There is no other car!" Saylinda nodded, jerking the wheel again. "There is!" Mark looked up again. "No, Saylinda, now there's another car!" The hood of the Range Rover loomed in front of him, the horn blaring. The last conscious thing Mark remembered before blacking out was Saylinda screaming, and then the silence.

**End flashback**

"That's it. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, and the doctor was telling me that Saylinda had died, and then Roger and Maureen were there, and…" His voice faded. "That's what happened. I was sober, she wasn't. She jerked us right in the path of the oncoming car. I tried, but I couldn't do anything. I feel horrible, but…" Roger squeezed his hand again. "You didn't do anything wrong, Mark." He glanced at the police. "If that's all, I'm taking Mark home now. He needs his rest." The police nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Mark."

Once they were out of the station, Roger turned to Mark. "You did a good thing in there. I wasn't sure how I would have asked you if they hadn't needed to know." He looked away. "I guess, in a way, you were right. I did kind of subconsciously blame you. I know that it's not your fault but…I guess I just didn't want to believe that Saylinda had been using drugs and alcohol. I didn't want to believe I was dating someone similar to my mother." Mark nodded. "I know. And I would have told you eventually, I just…wasn't ready yet." Roger nodded. "Yeah, I know. Look, you…okay, we should go get some sleep. The funeral is tomorrow."


	11. The Funeral and afterwards

Author's note: The links for the lyrics of all songs mentioned from now on in the story will be posted in my profile sometime in the next few days, 'kay?

"And so, as we say our final farewell to Saylinda, we must not forget that she now walks with our Father in Heaven, and that she is undoubtedly happier. So weep not for her, that her spirit is with the Father." After almost an hour, the preacher was winding down. No one was truly listening much anymore. The preacher continued. "And now, Saylinda's boyfriend Roger would like to say a few words in remembrance." Roger stood, walking to the front of the church. He cleared his throat. "I know," he began, " that a lot of you here today didn't really know Saylinda that well. But the fact that you still came proves what I knew about her. She was more than just some girl we passed in the hallway or on the street every day. She was the best friend of everyone she met. She was such an inspiration to all of us, and I know none of us will ever forget her." He paused, taking a deep breath, but his voice still cracked as he continued. "Saylinda was a huge fan of music. She performed all the time with my band, and she was a die-hard fan of the classics. Her favorite songs were Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'; Jimi Hendrix's 'Purple Haze'; and Willie Nelson's 'Highwayman.' The church won't actually let us play Zeppelin or Hendrix in remembrance of her, so as a final tribute to Saylinda, I give you Willie Nelson's 'Highwayman.'" Roger sat back down as the song started, blinking back tears. Maureen stood, somberly, and started down the aisle of the church to close the casket. The lid closed with a dry click, and Roger stood again, this time along with Mark, Benny and Collins. They lifted the casket wordlessly, carrying it silently to the waiting hearse.

After the burial, Saylinda's family held a small wake. Roger decided not to go. Instead, he, Mark, Collins and Maureen went to the Life Café, to hold a memorial party of their own. They toasted Saylinda with Cokes and soda water, and sat around till almost one in the morning, sharing their fond memories of Saylinda. The owner finally, grudgingly, kicked them out at one, telling them he was closing up, and they needed to leave. The spirits boosted, they decided to continue the memorial elsewhere, but Maureen and Collins both took off at one-thirty, so Roger and Mark started towards Mark's house. Roger dropped Mark off at two, promising to call later that day and see about going somewhere ("Maybe the two of us, Maureen, Collins and Benny could go to Coney Island later") and headed in the direction of his house. He didn't get home till almost three am, and was not prepared for what was about to happened there.


	12. The Guitar Incident

Author's note: Don't yell at me if Roger seems slightly out of character for this particular chapter; he needs to be to keep the story going past this chapter.

Charlene was waiting up when Roger got home. "Young man, what time is your curfew?" Roger shrugged. "I didn't think you'd mind, just this once. We really didn't mean to stay out so late." Charlene gave him a withering look. "That's not what I asked." Roger glanced at the clock. Three-fifteen. "Midnight," he muttered. Charlene nodded. "And did you call and ask if you could stay out later?" Roger shrugged again, fighting to control his temper. "No, I didn't. Sorry." He turned to go upstairs, but Charlene grabbed his wrist. "Where were you?" Roger rolled his eyes. "I was out getting stoned and having sex. Isn't that what you expect of me?" Charlene backhanded him. "I don't need the attitude, Roger!" Roger saw red, and he threw a fist in his mother's direction. "I was at a funeral! Dammit, Charlene, I just buried my girlfriend!" Charlene slapped him again, harder. Roger shoved her backwards, away from him. He went to his room, grabbing his backpack and the Fender, and then went back down. "I'm not doing this right now. I'm going to crash at Collins' place for awhile. You stay away from me." He headed for the door, but glanced back. Charlene pounced, ripping the Fender from his hands and throwing it aside. Roger yelled in fury, blinking back tears of anger. The guitar lay in several pieces, and Charlene had a smug look on her face. Roger clenched his fist, drawing blood, but resisted the urge to brutally murder Charlene, instead turning and walking out the front door. Charlene screamed after him, but he ignored her. Unsure of where he was actually going, he just kind of wandered. After a while, he found himself outside of Collins' house, and after a quick mental debate, rang the doorbell. It was four-thirty in the morning, but Collins answered instantly. His face filled with confusion. "Roger? What the…what time is it?" Roger shrugged. "I have no idea. Sorry for waking you, but I need a place to crash." Collins nodded. "What'd she do this time?" Roger looked away. "I don't wanna talk about it." Collins nodded. "Right. Well, you know the drill. Mi couch es su couch. We'll try not to wake you up too early."


	13. Intermission

Author's note: This chapter is in first person Roger again. It's kind of like the intermission of a Broadway show. Thus the name "Intermission"

After that incident, I wasn't sure if I could ever forgive my mother for the hell she was putting me through. I didn't really care about the other times; I'd recovered, I'd moved on. But this time? This time she'd gone too far. That guitar was my baby. It was a part of me. I felt like a part of me had died along with the guitar. I'd done Jimi Hendrix wrong by allowing his guitar to even be on the same continent as Charlene. You have no idea how much willpower it took that night, to keep from murdering her then and there. If I hadn't realized what my actions would do to my friends, I probably would have killed her then and there. I was furious. It was too much to handle. I mean, first Saylinda, then my guitar? I was ready to kill anyone who looked at me wrong. Mark asked me later on, when I'd calmed down a bit, why I went to Collins' instead of his house. I told him it was because I didn't want to have to explain to his mother. The real reason? I was afraid that I would try to kill him. At least if I tried to hurt Collins, he'd be able to stop me. But Mark was different. We both know that if I tried to hurt him, I'd probably succeed. A scary notion. Charlene, I guess, didn't realize what she'd done, not that it would have stopped her. But maybe, if she'd realized what she started, maybe she wouldn't have done it. But, as things often work out, she had no idea about the chain of events she'd started.


	14. Act Two

Author's note: Okay, we're back for Act Two. Get ready to laugh cry, and be utterly shocked some more!

Even a month later, the mention of Charlene's name caused Roger's temper to flare. His friend all began to avoid the subject altogether. Maureen, in particualr, tried her best to cheer him up. She spent all her time trying to fix him up with her friend April, who had a major crush on him. Roger never really noticed. Between mourning Saylinda's death and mourning the loss of his beloved Fender, Roger went back to version of himself everyone remembered from freshmen year, becoming sullen and withdrawn again. His grades, which had slid to B's in the last couple months, peaked again, the only sign that Roger was still human. Mark started badgering him more and more to do something after school. Roger finally agreed. Late in their junior year, Mark, Maureen, Roger and April headed to the Life Café after school for a group date. Halfway through, Maureen was happily buzzing, Mark was enjoying himself (for the first time since before Saylinda had died), and even Roger had cracked a smile or two. He was really warming up to April, and starting to enjoy her company. They were all having a great time. Of course, they hadn't counted on their surprise guest…


	15. Mystery Man

Author's note: I want to give a shout-out to Data Girl 3 for being the first to notice that there was any significance to the Range Rover in chapters 9 & 10 at all.

It came a surprise to everyone when the large green Range Rover pulled up outside the Life Café. Mark paled, grabbing Roger's arm. "Roger, that's it!" he hissed. "That's the car that hit us!" Roger spun to look at it. The driver stepped out, and Roger did a double-take. He turned to Mark. "Are you sure that's the same car?" Mark nodded. "Yeah. Why?" Roger took a deep breath. "Because…because I think that's my dad."

Mark was speechless. He watched Roger's face register several emotions at once, before settling on shock and anger. He stood, but then sat back down. "Forget it. If that son of a bitch doesn't want anything to do with me, that's his problem." Maureen nodded. "He's so not worth your time."

Roger's father, however, chose that moment to walk past. Like Roger, he did a double-take. "What the…" He stared at Roger for what seemed like ages. Roger clenched his fist, trying to ignore him, but after almost a minute, his patience wore thin. He slammed his hand onto the table, causing everyone to jump. "Will you stop staring at me like I'm some sort of goddamn freak?" His father blinked several times. 'I'm sorry, it's just…you look exactly like I did at your age. You'll be…what? Nineteen? Twenty?" Roger frowned. "I'm seventeen. And why would you care, anyway?" His father frowned. "You're Charlene's boy?" Roger nodded. "Not by choice." His father nodded. "Charlene mentioned having a son. She said were a troublemaker by nature. I see she was wrong, as usual. I'm your dad, Roger." Roger shrugged. "Actually, I don't have a dad. Nor is that bitch my mother. I choose not to have a family." His father nodded. "Roger, I realize I haven't been around much…" What was left of Roger's patience snapped. "'Haven't been around much'? Try not at all! Never in my life have you bothered to find out that you even had a son!" Mark placed a hand on Roger's shoulder. "Rog, maybe you should…" Roger shoved Mark's hand aside, continuing, his voice rising slightly in volume, but never wavering. "Furthermore, you piece of shit, even if I was to claim a family, you would not be included in a million years! You killed my girlfriend, you fuck!"

Silence ensued. Roger glared darkly at his father, who looked stunned. Maureen stared, instantly sober, absently pulling Mark close. Mark clenched his fists, clearly shaken. The entire café had gone silent and tense, watching the exchange warily. Finally, Roger's father cleared his throat. "Roger, I realize you're still deeply hurt from that loss, and of course you're in shock from my arrival, but I want to help you deal with that. I know Charlene isn't the best mother, but…" Roger's glare darkened. "She's a better damn parent than you've ever been for me. At least she has the decency to admit when she's wrong." His father made an attempt to look stern. "Roger, let me say something. That accident was not my fault. That girlfriend of yours, she pulled in front of me. She was probably drunk or something."

Roger snapped. "His fist was flying before he knew what he was doing, and his father went down. "You fucking asshole! You killed her! You sick fuck, you almost killed my best friend! At least have the decency to admit what you did!" Roger continued to attack his father, tears of rage streaming down his face. Finally, someone grabbed his should. He turned, ready to lash out and rip someone's head off, but froze as he looked into April's eyes. "Roger!" she hissed softly. "He's not worth it! Stop!" Roger turned away, fuming. "Fine. Let's get out of here." He turned back to his father. "I don't ever want to see you again. Don't speak to me. Don't call me, and don't write to me. If you even look at me, I'll…" He let his thinly veiled threat hang. April took his hand. "Come on."

Once outside, Maureen took a stunned Mark home, leaving Roger with April. She embraced him, tentatively, and was surprised when he accepted it. He glanced up at her, his face streaked with tears. April chanced a small, nervous laugh. "Maybe you shouldn't bottle up all that anger. It's not healthy, and you could kill someone someday." Roger's expression was hard to read, and April took an involuntary step back. Roger, to her surprise, however, began to laugh. "You know, you have a good point. I've never lost control like that. I just…" he smiled. "Some first date, huh?" he added, sarcastically. April grinned. "If that's your idea of a first date, I can't wait for the second!"


	16. Things Change

Author's note: It's been brought to my attention that some of my readers are bother by my "filler" chapters. So, in an effort to keep all my readers happy, this is the next filler that was planned, but instead of many details being covered in a short period, I'll focus on a couple major points.

Near the end of senior year, Roger found himself back in the recording studio, this with April be his side, instead of Saylinda. A fresh wave of melancholy washed over him, but he quickly shook it off. April smiled at him, and he grinned back, in spite of himself. He glanced around at the band. They nodded. "We're ready." the drummer, Luke, said. Roger nodded. "Good." He lifted his guitar, tuning it gently. After a long, agonizing search and some hard bargaining, Roger was able to track down another authentic Hendrix guitar. He left this one at Collins' house, normally, but had brought it today to help recreate the sounds of the band's first single, which they were re-recording. April had spent more than a week listening to the song over and over again, learning the lyrics, and now, the band was in the studio, warming up. April shot Roger another smile, nodding, and Roger signaled the producers. "We're ready. Start recording." The producer nodded, and the "recording" light came on. Roger nodded to the band. "One, two three four." He started playing the opening chords, while April bounced in rhythm, waiting for the lyrics to start. Roger nodded to her, and she began to sing.

_I know you want to do it,_

_to fit me in your little box._

_You think you know me._

_You don't_

_You try to talk about me,_

_you use such awful words_

_druggie, junkie bitch and slut,_

_now that's not cool_

_You don't know a goddamn thing_

_I'm not a puppet on a string_

_to be used_

_for your lies_

_I'm just me_

_I can't be_

_everything you want me to be_

_And I don't wanna be_

_anything, anything_

_but me._

_I'm not a_ _box, I don't fit_

_inside, your perfect lines_

_You yell at me when I'm out late, I try,_

_but you don't buy my alibis._

_So baby here's my two weeks notice,_

_I'm jumping ship, on my own_

_I'm not a puppet on a string_

_to be used, for your lies_

_I'm just me_

_I can't be_

_everything, you want me to be_

_and I don't wanna be_

_anything, anything, but me._

_Baby you know you, were my biggest mistake,_

_I still can't believe the risks you made me take_

_Baby, you ruined my life, my life revolved around you_

_Now, I'm heading out, I'm heading, I'm heading out without you!_

_I'm just me, _

_I can't be_

_everything (anything) you want me to be_

_and I don't wanna be_

_anything, anything, anything_

_I'm just me_

_I can't be_

_anything you want me to be_

_and I don't wanna be_

_anything, anything_

_anything but me!_

_I know you want to do it_

_to fit me in your little box_

_But I don't fit anymore…_

Roger played the final guitar riff, and the song ended. The light went off, and the producer's voice crackled over the speaker. "Nice job, guys. Here's the tape of the recording. It should be out soon." Roger nodded, grinning, and pulled April into his arms. "You were wonderful, baby. The song has never sounded so good." April smiled. "Sure it has. You've just never heard me sing it before." Roger grinned. "You're absolutely right. You now what? To celebrate, I'm taking you out to dinner." April laughed. "Don't you have a curfew?" Roger shrugged. "So I'll call Charlene on the way. She'll understand."

A few weeks later, "Anything" was back on the charts. Roger set a date to record an album, for early in their senior year, and arranged for a release of their single onto an album. After another particularly tense episode in the Davis household, this one involving thirty stitches on Roger's part, and a trip to family counseling, Roger and his mother finally made time to sit down and talk. The first time, Roger confessed to his mother how she made him feel. "Half the time, I'm scared to even come home at night," he explained, "because I don't know if you've been drinking, or doing some drug or other, and I don't know what's going to happen. Especially after the last time, I'm afraid to be around you. I don't know what you're going to do anymore. The last time, you destroyed my guitar. The next time, who knows?" Charlene nodded. "I've been trying, Roger. I know my behavior scares you, and I'm doing my best. The problem is, I can't go into rehab. If I do, the state will probably take you away from me. All I really want is to be able to be your mother. I know I've never been the best mother, and you'll probably be better off in foster care, or even with Luanne- Mrs. Cohen- but I want to try to be your mother." Roger thought for a moment. "Well, maybe, if you admit that you have a problem, and enter rehab of your own free will, the state will go easier on you. I can go stay with Mark or Collins while you're gone. I'll be eighteen in three months, so I think that might help you out a bit. I can choose where I live when I'm eighteen." Charlene nodded. "You do have a point. Well, alright, let's try it. I'll go call the rehab center, and you go call Collins or Mark and see if you can stay with them."

With that bright note, the school year ended. Roger was living at Mark's again, but was actually kind of looking forward to moving back in with Charlene. Mark's family decided not to take the annual vacation this year, but sent Mark, Roger, April and Maureen to New Orleans for a month. Once they got back, Charlene had gotten out of rehab, and Roger moved back in with her, ready to give her a second chance. Senior year was ready to start with a bang. Quite literally, a bang.


	17. Senior Year Begins

Author's note: The story is now drawing to a close. This is one of the last chapters.

Everyone said it was a tragedy, that November night. The lightning had struck the football field in the middle of the homecoming game. Three members of the team were killed, and two more were injured. The firemen called to the scene discovered traces of gasoline on the field, and eyewitnesses remembered seeing people on the football field that morning. Several of them claimed to have seen Roger there, and Roger was immediately hauled in for questioning. He was nursing several burns of his own, having jumped onto the football field to rescue April, who was homecoming royalty, from the blaze. That act right there convinced most that he was innocent, but many people still said he wasn't. The arguments flew back and forth, and in the middle of it all, Roger found himself being accused without any reason at all.

He maintained his innocence throughout everything. "I'm telling you, I didn't do it. First of all, even if I was gonna set the football field on fire, why would I let it happen during a time that my girlfriend was going to be on the field? That's just ridiculous!" The principal nodded. "Yes, Roger, you have a good point. But several eyewitnesses recall seeing you at the scene of the crime. How do you explain that one?" Roger nodded. "Okay, I'll square with you. I was on the field. And yes, I was going to pour gasoline on the field. But first of all, I had no intention of starting the fire. My plan was to cause the opposition to slip and fall, making them forfeit. However, I decided not to go through with it. I don't know how the gasoline got there." A cop got into his face. "Son, did you know that arson is illegal? And furthermore, you killed three people. That's called homicide. You're going to jail for a long time, son." Roger clenched his fist. "The only thing I see illegal here is the way I'm being treated! Look, I'm sorry that people were killed. That's exactly why I decided not to go through with my plan in the first place. I've never wanted to kill anyone. Why has everyone decided that I did it? Because I'm not a jock? Because of the little bit of fame that my song brought me? Did you decide to knock me off of my non-existent pedestal?" The principal held up a hand. "Roger, you're absolutely right. We obviously have the wrong person. You may go. You may want to have the paramedics look at those burns." Roger nodded. "Thank you. Again, I'm sorry people were killed." The principal smiled. "About that. Everyone who was near the field at the time of the fire needs to help identify the bodies." Roger nodded. "Okay."

April rushed at him the minute he reappeared on the field. She was crying. "Roger, it's awful. It's just awful." Roger held her, wincing slightly. "Baby, it's okay. What is it?" After a moment, he added, "Well, besides the obvious." April looked at him. "One of the players that was killed. It's…it's…" Roger held her at arms length. "Who is it?" She looked away. "It's Luke. Luke died. He got hit directly by the lightning. He didn't stand a chance." Roger's heart fell. "Oh, baby!" He held April close, and they cried together.

They were still holding onto each other when Charlene was permitted on the field to find Roger. She respectfully gave them some space for a moment, and then tapped Roger on the shoulder. He turned to look at her. "Yeah?" Charlene motioned to the car. "If you're ready, we can go home now. We'll drop April off on the way." Roger nodded, glancing at April. "Actually, Mom, if you don't mind, April, Mark and I were gonna stay together, try to help each get through this." Charlene nodded. "That's fine. Call me in the morning."

The next morning, Roger woke tangled in April's arms. The events of the previous night were a blur, but the pain that shot through his arm and chest when he moved quickly let him know he hadn't been dreaming. He cringed in pain, trying not to wake April up. She must have had a sixth sense, though, because she woke up instantly. She placed her arms gently around Roger, watching the burns. "Poor baby," she crooned. "You must be in so much pain. Let me help." She dug in her bag, finding some aloe vera gel that the paramedics had given her for Roger's burns. She rubbed it gently over the burns. "Baby, there." Roger smiled at her. "Thanks. You have no idea how much better that feels." April grinned. "I'm glad I could help. I can't believe they were blaming you for last night. That's so unfair!" Roger shrugged, gingerly. "Yeah, well, what are you going to do about it? Besides, the principal believes me. I'm not getting in trouble for it, that's for sure. A lot of people are always going to blame me. I'm just planning on ignoring them." April nodded. "You're very wise for your age." Roger laughed. "I try."


	18. Exodus

_**Author's note: The end is coming. I promise you, it is. **_

Senior year passed in a blur. Most people remained convinced of Roger's involvement in the homecoming incident, but they stopped talking about it. Winter Break was a welcome distraction, and Mark's family took the group skiing. The two weeks passed quickly, but about the end of the first week, Roger got a feeling that things were about to get bad again. He went home at the end of the trip, feeling apprehensive, but nothing happened. Yet.

About a month before graduation, April began to notice a change in Roger. He seemed more withdrawn then usual, and it scared her. Finally, she decided to talk to him about it. She cornered him after lunch one day, and gave him a concerned look. "Baby, I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself for awhile now. What's going on? You know you can always talk to me." Roger nodded, distracted. "Yeah. I'm fine. Things have just been…I'm fine. Just end of year stress, probably. Remember, I'm the valedictorian. I'm just nervous about my speech, that's all. Plus things haven't been going that well at home. I'll be fine. Just give me a couple days." April smiled. "Okay. You know you can always talk to me. One more question. What the heck is up with the stupid sunglasses you're always wearing these days? You look ridiculous!" She went to pull them off, and Roger batted her hand away. "I think they look fine. Besides, it's none of your business. Just…just leave me alone right now." He walked away. April felt like she'd been slapped. "What the hell is up with him?"

Two days later, Roger failed to show up for school at all. April spoke to Mark, and they decided they'd go check on him together. After school, they headed for his house. Mark had a quick flashback to the last time this had happened, but shook it off. Charlene met them at the door. She was stoned out of her mind. "He's gone, if you're looking for Roger. He left last night. Took all his stuff with him. No clue where he was headed." Mark looked stunned, but April shot Charlene a vicious look. "What did you do to him to make him want to leave?" Charlene shrugged. "He's been threatening for awhile. I suggest you go talk to the Man. He'll probably know." Mark looked up. "Why would he know? He's a drug dealer." Charlene nodded. "Exactly. Or did Roger not tell you? He took up smack a while ago. I'm surprised you never noticed. Face it, he ain't coming back." April clenched her fist. "You bitch!" Charlene slapped her. "Don't you ever talk to me like that! I know what you and my ungrateful bastard child did together. That doesn't mean you can disrespect me." She raised her hand, but Roger caught it. "And you can't talk to my friends that way. Don't you ever touch her again!" He grabbed Mark and April, pulling them away. "Let's go."

April turned to face Roger. "Is it true?" Roger looked away, then pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated. He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't know what else to do. She started…" he looked away. "She broke her promise to me. She started using again, and she started beating on me again…I had nowhere else to turn." April pulled him close. "Baby, we don't think any less of you. I promise." She sighed. "You're not coming back to school, are you?" Roger shook his head. "No, I'm not. I can't." Mark spoke up. "Where will you go?" Roger shrugged. "I was thinking of trying to find my grandparents. They live somewhere in the Midwest. I'll stay with them for awhile, try to get clean. Then I'll probably come back here. I don't know." April smiled. "Well, whatever you do, I'll be waiting."


	19. The End?

_**Author's note: And we are pretty much finished. Just a few more things to clear up, and we'll leave that to Roger.**_

I ended up not going to the Midwest. A quick check of recent obituaries showed that both my grandparents had died a week before. I tried to quit; I don't even know why I started in the first place. I guess Charlene finally got to me. The rest of the story is pretty simple: The band graduated, we found a new drummer and recording some singles. April ended up using smack; I've always felt bad for that. Maybe if I'd tried harder to quit, she wouldn't have started, and we wouldn't have gotten AIDS. She died, leaving me a note telling me we had AIDS. You all know the rest of the story. I did finally quit, met Mimi, and…well, you know. I haven't really thought about Charlene since high school. I guess, maybe, she thinks of me time to time. I get an occasional phone call, and Mark makes me send postcards every now and then, usually at the holidays, but we haven't talked in four years. I never did get back to high school. You don't really need a degree to be in a rock band, right?

**_Author's note: And we're done! I have to put this out there now, the lyrics in chapter 16 belong exclusively to me; it's a poem that I wrote specifically for this story. Keep an eye out for the sequel, as of right now titled "Mommie's Revenge" (it will probably change), coming soon!_**


End file.
